Page 26 of Fae Trials

Lady Gala flinched, her gasp drowned out by the crowd’s shocked exclamation.

Everyone stepped back. I sucked in a deep breath, bracing myself for the worst.

Lady Gala’s face twisted into a rictus of rage. “Did you see that? The halfling just assaulted me!”

“Perhaps she didn’t like your attempt to freeze her heart.” Prince Rory ran a hand through his russet hair.

The tightening in my chest loosened a fraction. Something about the lightness in Prince Rory’s expression said he might not be wholly opposed to the idea of having me as his mate.

Maybe desperation was making me see optimism where it didn’t exist, but I was surrounded by angry faeries who looked ready to turn me into a cockroach. I stepped closer to Gladiolus, hoping he would intervene if Lady Gala convinced her friends to attack.

“Are you taking her side, now?” Lady Gala turned to the other Fated. “You see, this is the work of powerful, dark magic. The halfling is already turning our mates against us.”

Lady Aster clapped her hands to her face. “What if this is the work of Queen Maeve?”

My brows drew together. “I’m not in league with—”

“I see it!” Lady Salix staggered back, her willowy figure swaying as though blown by the wind. “The halfling is Queen Maeve’s daughter, sent to destroy us all.”

Angry mutterings spread across the crowd. I glanced from left to right, my mouth opening and closing, not producing words but ragged breaths.

If I told them I was a human under a curse, it might make the situation worse. For all I knew, Lady Salix might have been onto something. The dark faerie who had cursed me could have somehow been connected to the banished Queen Maeve.

“Dark magic is against the lore,” Lady Gala snapped. “Punishable by execution. I say we send her to King Oberon for judgment.”

“Everybody, please remain calm!” Gladiolus raised his palms.

Lady Gala grabbed Lady Aster’s hand. Both faeries raised their arms, directing a gust of icy wind into my face. Doubling over, I twisted around to protect my front, but one of the princes stepped forward and turned me around. From the frost coating his hands, I guessed it was Prince Caulden of the Winter Court.

“Kill the pretender,” someone shouted.

“Calm yourselves,” Gladiolus yelled over the noise.

I twisted around, looking for an escape, but the faeries surrounded us.

Strong arms scooped me up, cradled me to a hard chest, and my rescuer launched himself into the air. My stomach lurched, but it was nothing compared to the icy wind and angry shouts of the high faeries beneath us.

I raised my head, only to meet the fuzz-covered features of Pokeweed, the faerie who resembled a common moth. Below us, the crowd closed in on Gladiolus.

Gulping, I asked, “Why isn’t anyone following?”

“The wards allow staff members to perform certain kinds of magical feats,” replied Pokeweed. “He’s made us invisible or created a glamor that fools everyone into believing you’re still down there cowering.”

“Right.” I blew out a relieved breath as he flew me out through the fourth wall, which I had previously thought was a window.

Instead of hitting glass, magic fizzled against my skin, which I assumed was there to protect the students from the elements while allowing them to enjoy the spectacular view of Snaefell Palace and the mountains.

Why couldn’t my fated mate have been someone like Pokeweed instead of one of the sought-after princes? At worst, the Fated would have laughed at me, but they wouldn’t accuse me of dark magic. Now, they wanted me dead, and I needed a way to survive long enough to find Sicily.

Pokeweed flapped his moth wings, propelling us higher. The wind swirled around my ears, bringing with it the scent of violets. He stared down at me with eyes so black, I couldn’t tell his iris from his pupil.

“Why are you fated to be with the princes?” he asked.

“I…” The words died in the back of my throat. Telling the truth out loud might alert the wards that I was an intruder, and giving anyone an inkling that I was actually a human under a curse might get me assassinated. Lady Gala was already calling for my execution. “I’m not sure what’s happened.”

He flew around the pristine white building, up to a tower with crenelations. I squinted against the reflection of the sun on the window and focussed on Pokeweed. The hairs covering his face were patterned like a common moth—completely unlike anything I’d seen on the Isle of Fae. Even centaurs and satyrs had an exposure of bare skin, but everything about this poor guy seemed designed to repel others.

“Are you a high faerie or a half-blood?” I asked.